Sickness
By Ian Stevens
I
am a lost cause on this earth.
Nothing
in the the eyes of those around.
A
useless fuck conceived at birth,
worth
more fertilizing the ground.
I
am the black sheep in the herd.
A
plague within the race of man.
An
empty vessel that only hurts.
A
corrupted soul full of sin.
No
one gives a damn about my pain;
no
one can see the loneliness inside.
All
I can do is stand in the rain,
waiting
for someone to come by my side.
The
chance of that happening is slim,
and
I will slowly fade in time.
My
outlook on the future is dim
for
my very existence is a crime.
I'm
just waiting around to die.
My
death will make everyone happy.
Come
look into my blackened eyes:
I'm
just a remnant of reality.
I'm
just an infection.
I'm
nothing.